


american girl

by sidnihoudini



Category: South Park RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1768363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidnihoudini/pseuds/sidnihoudini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fuck,” He says again, way quieter this time, because the day that he stops swearing when he first sees Trey’s cock is the day that he assumes he will have already lost all higher brain function.</p>
            </blockquote>





	american girl

**Author's Note:**

> This strange thing happened by accident the other night.

“Dude. That’s fucking sick.”

Trey startles, looking up from his hamburger with both eyebrows raised as he tries to level the entire right side of it into his mouth.

“Wha,” Is all he manages to say, before his mouth is moving to take a massive bite. In retrospect he’s actually not sure whether he meant to say ‘why’ or ‘what’, but it’s out there now.

Grimacing, Matt sits down in one of the two leather chairs that face the front of Trey’s desk. He kicks his sneakers up, resting them between Trey’s computer monitor and his bottle of emergency soy sauce.

“That shit is gonna give you a heart attack, man. Like you’re not exactly eighteen anymore,” Matt tells him, clearly rolling right into one of his ‘judge Trey’s love handles and natural propensity for fast food’ type moods. Eat vitamins in the morning, Trey, stop spilling special sauce all over your shirt, Trey. “Man. I can’t believe you still put that shit in your mouth.”

Trey rolls his eyes as he benevolently sets his hamburger back down, careful not to spill its toppings. He’s still chewing his last mouthful as he reaches for a napkin - the one that’s already slightly wrinkled, and discarded to the left of his keyboard.

“I put your dick in my mouth on the reg, fuck face,” He says, mouth still full. There is no real heat in his words as he wipes the sauce off of his fingers, and watches Matt make a face back at him. “And for the record, hamburgers won’t kill me. The cocaine, maybe.”

Kicking his foot out, Matt knocks a vinyl figure of Stan off of the edge of Trey’s desk. He says, “Not funny.”

“Super funny,” Trey disagrees, raising his eyebrow as they stare at one another for a second. As the moment passes he licks the corner of his mouth and adds, “I feel like I have sauce on my face.”

Snorting, Matt lets one of his feet drop down off of the desk, legs open, as he says, “It’s all over your chin, dude. You look like you’ve been giving blowjobs for packets of McChicken sauce.”

“Mayonnaise bukkake,” Trey cackles, wiping the crumpled napkin over his face.

Matt grimaces but still finds himself watching Trey as he drops the napkin to go back to his burger instead.

“You can fuck me later and think about how sexy I look _right now_ ,” Trey says, curving his head to the side a little as he poses with the hamburger halfway back to his mouth. He looks like one of those sexy trading cards you used to find wedged into the coin slots of pay phone booths in the nineties. 

Laughing despite the disgusted noise that he also makes, Matt covers his eyes with one hand. Ultimately he just ends up laughing even harder when Trey overcompensates on his next sexy burger bite, and starts coughing instead.

“You’re like that seagull we watched who ate a whole hot dog when we were in Seattle,” Matt laughs, watching Trey cough some more. It’s like a 3/10 on the choking scale. Matt leans forward to snake one of Trey’s fries as he adds, “You remember him. He asphyxiated on four inches of kosher wiener.”

Recovering, Trey clears his throat once more before he reaches for his never wavering can of Coke - diet, thank you - and drinks half of it in three gulps. His eyes are still watering from choking on the burger.

“Well as long as it isn’t six inches of cock,” He finally manages to say, even though his voice comes out all fucked up sounding from the carbonation crackling down his throat.

Matt grins and drops his other foot down off of the desk, the rubber sole of his shoe bouncing against the floor.

“Like Liberace,” He says, raising his eyebrows.

Trey frowns and manages a, “Dude,” while crunching the empty hamburger wrapper up with one hand.

“What?” Matt asks.

Shaking his head, albeit amused, Trey explains, “That was AIDS, man,” before continuing to jam all of the assorted food paraphernalia that came with his feast back into the heavy duty brown and red paper McDonalds bag.

Matt makes a noise that basically means ‘same thing,’ and continues to watch as Trey fucks around with the bag.

“Oh, shit!” Trey says all of a sudden, sounding surprised as he pulls something back out of the bag.

Interest piqued, Matt raises his eyebrows and asks, “What?”

“They totally gave me extra sauce. Fuck! I was rationing that shit!” He bitches, holding the two extra packs of sauce in the palm of one hand. After digging through the bag a bit more to ensure there are no others hiding, he stashes them in the top drawer of his desk.

Matt snorts and watches him, saying, “Currency of the realm.”

“I would snort that shit through a straw,” Trey agrees easily, finally standing up so he can throw the crumpled McDonalds bag away, into his comedically small plastic garbage can. He brushes the crumbs off of the front of his t-shirt and asks, “Why are you hanging out, anyway?”

Shrugging a little, Matt extends one arm out, wiggling his fingers until Trey comes around to the front of his desk instead of sitting back down behind it. When Trey is within grabbing distance, Matt snags him by the front of his shirt and tugs him forward dick first.

“Just finished a three hour standards and practices meeting,” Matt explains, tone flat. “For the last half an hour all I could think about was you sitting in here eating a family pack of chicken nuggets by yourself like some fat girl sitting in a bathroom stall.”

Trey rolls his eyes and leans away from Matt, shirt fabric stretching between them as he rests his ass against the front edge of his desk. He reaches forward to pat Matt on the top of his head as Matt lets go and reaches for Trey’s waist, instead.

“Alright, well, there’s actually no such thing as a ‘family pack’ of nuggets,” Trey says, doing air quotes around ‘family pack’ before he reaches down to flatten the front of his t-shirt where Matt had pulled it up. “They’re made for individual consumption. And I _like_ to eat alone, so fuck you.”

Matt starts pulling Trey forward again, and replies, “Shut the fuck up, the suggested serving size is like four nuggets. You’re too emotional about food.”

“Who even looks at the nutritional shit, fuck you,” Trey frowns, making a face at the mere idea of sitting there trying to figure out exactly what was going into his mouth. His metabolism may have gotten a little retarded as he’s gotten older, but his brain still functions just fine - and he’s not wasting time counting calories. Matt keeps tugging him forward so he finally follows, one knee bumping into the front part of Matt’s chair as he steps forward. “Nobody in real life looks at that shit except for your mom.”

This is an argument that Matt can’t even estimate how many times they’ve had over the last million years. The last time they’d bitched about Trey’s shitty eating habits, they were speeding down a freeway outside of Chicago at approximately a hundred miles an hour while Trey had tried to eat a box of Chinese takeout while driving.

“What is this, 1999? Your mom,” Matt says, not sounding too mad about it.

Trey manages to crawl into the chair on top of Matt, awkwardly sitting there with his knees on either side of Matt’s thighs. His legs are wedged against the non-padded parts of the arm rests, and it’s definitely not the most comfortable position ever, but it works.

“I’m going to gain a hundred pounds and crush the shit outta you,” Trey threatens.

Matt shifts underneath him, making a face when his thigh gets pinched. As he shifts he also tries to hold Trey steady, so he doesn’t go crashing backwards against the front of his solid wood desk.

“You already crush the shit outta me, fucking jesus Trey,” He says, adjusting his hips.

Just as Trey is leaning forward to purposely put more of his dead weight directly on Matt’s torso, there’s a knock at the doorframe outside about a second before the door swings wide open.

“Oh - uh,” It’s Kelsey, the fresh faced twenty three year old intern that the network recently sent them for the long months of April, May and June. She looks momentarily horrified to see her two temporary superiors straddling one another in their conference chairs.

In the doorway, she takes a small step back - as though it might somehow turn back time.

“Hey, don’t worry about it - we were just wrestling,” Trey tells her, jerking as Matt pinches his nipple through his t-shirt. Trey’s explanation doesn’t actually make the situation any better, because now she clearly can’t figure out if it’s a joke or not. Trey smiles wider at her and jams his finger into Matt’s side.

She finally smiles a little, lips warbly, and then clears her throat as Trey rolls off to the side and holds onto the arm part of the chair while he gets his legs unwedged. After a second he’s back on both feet and making his way around his desk, pausing to pick the vinyl figure back up off of the floor.

“Sorry, I um, will knock better next time,” She says, and Matt laughs a little at ‘knock better.’ After a second she manages to pull herself together and explain, “Trey, Cindy wanted me to remind you that you have a conference call in ten minutes. Also, I’m doing a coffee run if anyone wants anything?”

As Trey settles back into his office chair Matt nods, pushing his hips up so he can reach into his back pocket for his wallet.

“Just grab me anything with lots of espresso in it,” He says, pulling a rumpled looking twenty dollar bill out of the fold of his wallet, and holding it out for her to take. “And get Trey something with loads of whipped cream, probably strawberry flavored, right?”

Throwing a pen, Trey laughs and says, “Fuck you! Just get me a normal black coffee, Kelsey, thanks.”

“Straight white man over here,” Matt snickers, catching the pen easily.

Trey puts on his creepy ‘everything is fine’ smile until Kelsey takes the money and leaves again, closing the door behind her.

“Alright, you gotta go,” He announces, turning back to face Matt. He reaches forward and straightens out some paperwork that Anne threw at him this morning - he’s pretty sure that Matt has dupes on his own desk. “I do like looking at your weird face but you’re distracting the shit outta me, and I gotta finish this script. And have it not suck. And I’ve got about ten minutes to do it before I have a conference call, apparently.”

Matt frowns, “I wanted to have sex in the bathroom.”

“Dude, shut the fuck up,” Trey scoffs, eyebrows knotting as he leans back in his chair and rolls his eyes. “I just ate two combos, I’m not getting fucked anytime soon. And I have too much shit to do to have sex with you right now.”

Not moving, Matt raises his eyebrows and tries to bargain, “Conference call blowjob?”

That makes Trey hesitate - he does have a soft spot for secret blowjobs when they’re both supposed to be working. He frowns.

“Kelsey’s coming back with our coffee,” He finally says, knowing he sounds lame.

Matt shrugs and shifts his hips around, fingers dangling off either chair arm. At this point it’s pretty obvious that he’s turning himself on just thinking about it. Trey frowns at him some more.

“We’ll wait it out,” Matt says, shrugging.

Sighing, Trey reaches for his mouse. He at least wants to get five minutes of writing in before Matt blows him during this conference call.

“Well, fuck. Put your dick away at least,” Trey finally says, clearly acquiescing. He gestures to the hoodie thrown over the back of the chair beside Matt’s. “I don’t want any intern related sexual assault charges getting pressed when she walks back in here and finds you with a boner in your pants.”

Matt reaches for the hoodie and says, “It’s fucking hot dude, I can’t help it.”

“Whatever,” Trey says, turning back to his computer monitor. He re-reads the last sentence he wrote, and then looks back across the desk at Matt. “Don’t you have stuff to do this afternoon anyways?”

Strategically placing the hoodie across his lap, Matt glances up and says, “Nah, not for an hour. After this I’m gonna get lunch.”

“Huh,” Trey says, nodding in approval before he goes back to his sentence.

They sit in silence for a few minutes as Trey types up a few lines and then deletes them. He’s distracted by his impending conference call and Matt’s dick, not necessarily in that order. He looks across the desk one too many times to watch Matt as he plays a game on his phone in one hand and presses a palm against his dick through his pants with the other.

“Goddamnit,” Trey finally blurts after a second, clearly frazzled. Matt jumps and looks up at him, eyes wide, iPhone hanging half out of his hand. Trey widens his eyes and says, “Can you fucking not?”

It takes about a second for Matt to put two and two together, and when he does, he starts laughing.

“Is my sexy game playing turning you on?” He cackles, watching as Trey leans forward and groans, rubbing both hands over his face as he looks up at the ceiling instead of at Matt. When Trey doesn’t immediately look over at him, Matt is sidetracked back to the screen of his phone. He says, “I’m playing 2048, dude. I’m almost at 1024.”

The chime of their internal instant messaging system makes Trey look back down from the ceiling, and when he does, he sees that Cindy, their secretary, has messaged him another reminder to dial into the conference call.

“Don’t touch my dick until the coffee comes,” Trey warns, and then reaches for his work phone. It’s made of heavy textured plastic and straight out of 1995, but apparently it’s the only thing that works with every conference call system ever invented by Microsoft. 

Matt takes the hand off his dick long enough to hold it over his heart, even though it doesn’t really count because he’s still mostly involved in playing his game. It’s good enough for Trey, though, so he pulls the phone across the desk so the buttons are within dialing distance, and starts punching in the number.

As the phone is ringing, there’s a sharp, loud knock on the other side of the door.

“Yeah,” Matt greets, as Trey dials his own extension into the conferencing system. Fucking analogue bullshit. He wants to be able to pull up a goddamn Star Trek digital fabric and have it recognize him by his face. He wants to swipe shit floating in the air, not punch decade old buttons that sometimes get stuck down.

Kelsey’s head pops through the door before she swings it open the whole way. She’s holding two trays of drinks, and smiles as she brings Matt his cappuccino and Trey his coffee. She sets them both down on the desk and waves her hand when Matt mouths ‘thanks’ from above the confines of his hidden boner hoodie castle.

“It’s Trey,” Trey says into the phone, frowning down at it.

There’s some staticy garble on the other end before the voice of one of the network’s executive producers crackles through the line. He sounds as stoked as Trey looks to be talking about yearly projections for the tenth time this month. Taking the opportunity, Matt throws the hoodie back onto the other chair, slides his iPhone onto Trey’s desk, and bounces up to lock the door.

“Windows,” Trey mouths, gesturing to the massive floor to window panes beside his desk.

They pretty quickly discovered that pulling down the blinds on the windows was a top priority after the entire parking lot got a view of Matt’s bare ass one morning. There hadn’t been any penetration, but it had been too close, and it had ended with Eric giving them an insane amount of shit over it.

Matt walks around the short side of Trey’s desk, already unbuttoning his own pants. He knows he’s gonna want to start jerking off in about five minutes and there’s no way that he’s going to be able to accommodate that with his belt done up this tight.

“Totally understand that concern,” Trey is saying, as Matt rolls his office chair backwards and then spins him around so they’re facing one another. As an afterthought, he reaches over Trey and slides the telephone base forward too, so the microphone is still within range of Trey’s voice as he adds, “But realistically, we’d need more equipment. Like, a lot more equipment.”

Kneeling down on the floor in front of Trey’s legs, Matt grins and starts undoing Trey’s belt. He actually really fucking hates these jeans, they’re cut like Trey bought them from the Wal-Mart women’s department, and they’re the same blue denim color that Matt remembers everyone wearing in 2003. Belatedly Trey leans back a little, and straightens his hips out so Matt can at least get the zipper down.

“The estimate was at least fifty thou,” Trey is telling them, head still angled back towards his desk even though the rest of his body is turned towards Matt.

When Matt gets Trey’s jeans down to his knees and realizes that he’s already hard too, he groans a little and says, “Fuck.”

“Dude,” Trey whispers, trying to cover the microphone with the palm of his hand. There is a mute button but the one time he pressed it he managed to disconnect everyone from the call and lock himself out of the line. Matt looks up at him, so Trey mouths, eyebrows raised, “Shut the fuck up.”

Matt rolls his eyes and leans over Trey’s lap, mouthing an empty looking, “Sorry,” back.

He’s always had a thing for sucking dick, and it’s evidenced by the long list of moderately public places where he’s managed to get Trey’s cock in his mouth. One press tour they had made a list of all the cities they’d fucked in, but that total hadn’t even come close to Matt’s own personal mental inventory of the locations where he’d blown Trey.

Twenty years is a long time to rack up a stack of fuck locations.

Pushing himself up onto his knees, Matt leans forward, back curving as he bends down to press his mouth against Trey’s dick through his underwear. 

Trey is still talking about the potential new editing system that everyone’s thinking about above him, but Matt feels Trey’s hand come to rest on his shoulder - palm warm as he pushes his hips out, trying to angle his dick closer to Matt’s mouth.

Matt grins and leans in closer, sucking through the thin fabric of Trey’s underwear again.

Getting Trey off isn’t exactly a puzzle. Matt can feel him getting harder and harder as he moves his mouth more, both of his hands coming up to pull down the twisted elastic band on either side of Trey’s hips. Bare ass against an office chair isn’t great, but it’s a necessary evil and Matt feels his dick jerk in his pants as he gets Trey’s underwear down over his thighs.

“Fuck,” He says again, way quieter this time, because the day that he stops swearing when he first sees Trey’s cock is the day that he assumes he will have already lost all higher brain function. He glances up at Trey and grins when he sees that a flush has already started to creep up the front of Trey’s throat.

Matt gets Trey’s underwear the rest of the way down and then pushes his knees apart, wide enough so he can shuffle in-between them. Trey willingly lets his legs fall open as much as they can with his pants still stuck down around his ankles, and drops his head back against the head rest of the chair as Matt wraps a hand around his dick.

Honestly, Matt’s always been big into making a mess, and an official office environment doesn’t change that. He starts jerking Trey off slowly, and leans down to suck at Trey’s skin, leaving as much spit in his wake as he possible can. Mouth still on his dick, Matt glances up at Trey again and catches him with his head tilted all the way back, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

“Ugh, yeah well, you know,” Trey manages to say, resting one hand on the back of Matt’s head. “Nothing we can do about that, right? Not yet, anyway.”

Matt reaches up to pull Trey’s hips forward more, trying to get his ass angled low in the seat so Matt can get more of his dick in his mouth. Trey realizes what he’s doing immediately and starts trying to kick one foot out of his pants. He gives up after a couple of half hearted kicks, and then drops his hips low in the chair, knuckles coming up to press hard against his own mouth as Matt takes him deeper.

“Fuck,” He groans against his own hand, and it’s quiet, but it’s audible.

Sitting back on his heels, Matt reaches down and starts jerking himself off as he jerks Trey, too, tempo speeding up as Trey makes another choked noise and presses both feet down hard against the floor on either side of Matt’s body.

“You still there?” Someone on the phone asks, and Trey barks out a surprised laugh, nodding to nobody in particular as he lets his hand slide from the top of Matt’s head to drop down to his shoulder instead.

He squeezes Matt’s shoulder and manages to say, “Yeah of course, sorry, just, you know - fuck, eating lunch.”

“Weird me too,” Matt says quietly, catching Trey’s eye before he leans back in and slides his mouth around the head of Trey’s dick, hand coming up to meet where his lips are. He feels Trey’s hand snap back from his shoulder to the top of his head, fingers curling and knotting in the hair on the crown of Matt’s head, hips starting to pump up from where he’s seated in the chair.

Matt goes faster, closing his eyes as he starts working over Trey’s cock, his other hand speeding up to match as he jerks himself off, too. Trey’s legs keep flinching and jerking and moving on either side of him, the hand on Matt’s head tightening and releasing as he tries to string together a sentence that makes sense.

“The thing about it is,” Trey stops to jerk, his stomach muscles tightening up. “It’s fine for this season, but by next year our productivity is gonna,” His muscles spasm again and he leans forward, curling over Matt’s head as he tries to keep his own angled towards the phone. “Be impacted.”

Both executives make ‘hmm, good point’ type noises, and Trey takes the natural lull in conversation to let his eyes roll as he falls back against the chair, pumping his hips up as Matt tries to push them back down.

“Well, hey - what are Matt’s thoughts?” One of the executives asks after a second, sounding curious. The mention of Matt’s name catches them both off guard, and as Trey looks forward so he’s sitting normally again, he looks down at Matt and makes a ‘what the fuck’ face.

Matt makes the face back at him with his mouth still wrapped around Trey’s dick, and then tips his head forward, going all the way down again. The sudden plunge in depravity makes Trey’s whole body jerk, and he accidentally lets out a noise as he grabs at the arm of his chair, eyes squeezing shut.

“He, uh, well,” Trey manages to say after a second, trying his best to sound normal. His stomach muscles spasm again and he shakes his head, leaning forward to talk closer to the telephone speaker. “New systems aren’t really his first priority, but he uh - ultimately - has the same viewpoint as me.”

With another question successfully answered, Trey grabs Matt by the back of the head and tries to pump his hips up a couple of times. He only gets one pump in before Matt pulls back, moving his head out from under Trey’s hand before he pushes it away altogether, and starts jerking him off again instead.

The flush that started at Trey’s throat has now appeared at the base of his dick. His muscles spasm once more, hands coming back to tug at Matt’s hair just a little too hard before he swears under his breath and starts coming, hips pumping up into Matt’s hand, his own fist curled in the air as he bites the curve of his thumb.

Matt keeps jerking himself off until he comes, too, leaning forward to press his forehead against the bare skin of Trey’s thigh as he pumps into his own hand, body shaking, knees pressed hard into the floor.

“Ugh,” Trey says, falling forward a few inches, shoulders slumping forward as both hands fall to rest palm down on both of Matt’s shoulders. Matt’s breathing hard too, actually, mouth sticky with drying spit and come as he presses it to the inside of Trey’s thigh, half assing a real kiss against the skin he finds there.

One of the executives sighs and says, “I know Trey, it can be a real pain to figure this stuff out.”

That makes Trey really laugh before he exhales hard again and falls back into his chair, one hand fluffing through Matt’s short hair as Matt leans against his leg, still trying to catch his own breath.

“Well, listen,” Trey says, and while Matt definitely gets ‘recently fucked’ from the tone of his voice, he doubts the network executives are also able to make that distinction. Trey leans one elbow onto the arm of his chair heavily, and reaches over to hover his finger over the disconnect button. “I really gotta finish the script. Let me know what the verdict is.”

They both make agreeable noises so Trey lets them go, thanking them for their time despite the fact that Trey mostly gave them his.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” He announces once the line has disconnected, and he accidentally bumps his computer back from the screensaver. He reaches behind him for the t-shirt he had been wearing yesterday until he’d spilled soda all down the front, and uses that to wipe the leftover come and spit off of his stomach.

He shakes it out a little so it’s mostly turned inside out before he holds it out for Matt to use, too.

“My hero,” Matt intones, making a face as he bunches it up and straightens up onto his knees, trying to save the hem of his t-shirt from the mess on his stomach. His underwear are clearly a lost cause, and are gonna have to get stuffed into the bottom of Trey’s garbage can or something.

Trey starts trying to zip his jeans back up, and raises his eyebrows as he asks, “Can I finish work now?”

“Yes,” Matt replies, using Trey’s knees to pull himself back up onto his feet. Dick still hanging out of his pants, he leans forward and kisses Trey so the whole ‘we can fuck but we can’t kiss’ vibe goes away. He’s been really paranoid about that ever since he saw Confessions of a Callgirl on HBO ten years ago. “I will now look forward to fucking you properly once we get home at five o’clock in the morning two days from now.”

Laughing, Trey pulls Matt down once more to kiss him before he leaves.

“Come and get me in a few hours. If not I’m going to edit this until it’s really not funny anymore,” Trey warns, kicking the come rag t-shirt underneath his desk, next to his gym shoes and flip flops. Hopefully he remembers to deal with that before someone else sees it.

Matt finishes zipping his pants up and nods, flattening down his shirt and making sure he isn’t rocking come stains on the front zipper of his dark pants.

“I’ll come back after my thing this afternoon,” Matt agrees, snagging his coffee and phone from Trey’s desk before he starts heading towards the door. “You need anything?”

Trey waves him off so Matt takes that as ‘no thank you darling, I love you and will see you again very soon,’ and gently closes the door behind himself on his way out.


End file.
